This was the routine. Their anger erupted in the evenings, only to cool into bitter silence the following morning. They used to try to compromise when the children were young. Now however, with all out of the house save one, this unspoken truce had been disregarded. It had not always been like this, of course. All couples start out perfect and happy in the beginning, before poisonous thoughts seep into the mind and proceed to destroy the heart. Their poison was the past. His nightmares. Her doubts. His anger and regret. Her desire to forget.

Ginny rose from her chair a few minutes after the door slammed shut; either by wind or by force, Ginny did not know. There was no use dwelling on the argument. This was just how her life was. The blissful years of the early days of marriage were long gone, nothing more than memories captured in the few moving portraits around their house. She had known it was going to be difficult when she married him. She had always hoped, however, that in the end, love would win. That her life could be perfect because she was marrying the famous boy of her childhood dreams.

If only it could have been that simple.

Ginny continued tidying up the mess of their most recent fight: the broken glass that had been shattered against the wall, the papers that had been pushed off the kitchen table, the picture frame that had fallen behind the couch, too embarrassed by such displays of anger to remain so visible. It was not that their most recent fight had been any more than normal, Ginny considered while sweeping away the last of the glass shards, it was just that she was reaching her limit. She couldn’t take this any longer. There was something wrong between them that no amount of love or compromise could fix. Maybe after a year or so, they could try again. For now, however, happiness was impossible and they both knew it.

Sighing, Ginny made her way to the shower. She needed the steam if she ever wished to clear her thoughts enough to make a mature decision. Her reflection in the large bathroom mirror caught her eye. She mostly avoided mirrors these days and could barely recognize the tired stranger who looked at her. Dark circles surrounded eyes that once sparkled with life but now were dull with exhaustion. Fine lines were beginning to etch her face, creating delicate webbing from her eyes and around her mouth. Lines that told more stories of sadness and anger than of laughter. Her hair, a chaotic mess, was still the vibrant Weasley red, but the gold tinge of youth had faded. The woman in front of her was no longer the smiling, joking girl of her school days. The thought brought bright, unshed tears to Ginny’s eyes.

After taking a quick shower, Ginny threw a few things into a large canvas bag. She was just going to get out of the house for a few days. She needed that to clear her head. She was positive he would not find himself missing her. She considered writing a note, but couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t know how long she would need to be alone and she highly doubted he would attempt to look for her even if a note were not left.

Perhaps it was whatever made her fall for him in the first place, perhaps just marital commitment. Either way, she couldn’t bring herself to just leave. So, compromising, she scribbled that she would be in contact with him when she was ready to talk.

There, Ginny thought, placing the Post-it note on the fridge before heading for the door. She highly doubted Harry would care that she was gone. He was probably going to stay at her brother’s for a few days anyway. He always ran for Ron and Hermione whenever things got particularly bad with the relationship. It was one of the many things that bothered Ginny about marrying her brother’s best friend. He always had someone to run to. Where did that leave her?

The brisk wind slapped her face as she stepped out the front door. Though she loved the location of their small house, with the gorgeous, unobstructed views and the quiet peace of the country, living on a hill without trees definitely did have its drawbacks. The wind was certainly one of them. Pulling her coat closer, Ginny Apparated.

The small pub was loud when she stepped in from the back door. The Yodeling Dwarf was one of the few places in town that belonged solely to the Wizarding world. Due to the low concentration of wizards in the area, there was no need for much more than this, a small but friendly place to gossip, relax, and have a pint of delicious butterbeer. Ginny sat at the worn bar, relieved to be out of the house at last.

“What’ll it be fer you, miss?” the bartender asked politely, drying off a glass mug.

“Just some tea, please.”

He brought her a steaming cup a few moments later. Ginny breathed in its warm aroma before taking a careful sip of the boiling liquid. It felt nice as it crept down her throat, warming her as it went. The strong taste brought with it a bit of liveliness that Ginny thought had been lost in the fight of last night.

She was just beginning to think that perhaps she could have a good day when she looked to up to see the back of a head she certainly did not want to see. Though she had rarely caught but passing glimpses of him on the covers of various cheap magazines since her days at school, the appearance was undeniable. The pale blond hair had been perfectly placed, the expensive robes were not showing a speck of dust, and Ginny had no doubt the cologne that wafted towards her cost more than her entire wardrobe.

Malfoy.

“Can I help you?” a voice said, interrupting her thoughts with aristocratic precision.

The man had turned around during Ginny’s mental battle and was staring at her with cold, gray eyes. He hasn’t aged a day since he left school, Ginny thought, still gazing speechless at the face of her childhood enemy. His hair looked different, falling almost delicately around his face, somehow softening the pointed features. Ginny supposed that was because he was no longer applying near-lethal amounts of product like he did when they were younger.

“Excuse me…?” the man said again, uncertain of the silence that greeted his previous question.

No, it was not just the lack of gel that made him look different. His face was softer, lacking the hard, pointed features she remembered. And his eyes weren’t gray at all but instead a light blue-green color. Maybe she just never looked at him close enough in school to notice these things.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ginny muttered quickly, hoping he didn’t think she was a complete idiot for just standing staring at him for the past few moments. She waited for the sarcastic comment that was surely on the man’s lips.

“It’s fine,” he answered. Ginny was shocked to hear no mockery in his voice. "Although you might want to purchase another cup of tea seeing how the majority of you cup is on the floor.”

“Oh.” Ginny could feel the hot blush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks as she noticed that she indeed had spilled a great deal of tea on the floor. This couldn’t be the same person she went to school with. It was impossible. His voice remained polite and almost kind though Ginny was quite certain she had made an absolute fool of herself. The Draco Malfoy she knew would have verbally ripped her to shreds by now. “I just thought… well,” Ginny started, figuring if he hadn’t figured out who she was by know, she might as well ask. “I thought you were someone I went to school with.”

To her surprise, the man smiled. Not a smirk. Not a leer. Not a grimace. An actual smile with some hint of warmth and humor behind it. “I think you might be mistaking me. Unless you left Hogwarts a few years ago, that is. In that case, it would be very possible.”

Ginny laughed in spite of herself. “No, I left that school quite a long time ago. I was there during the war, actually.” Ginny knew this gave away her age, but this smiling man did not seem to mind as he took a seat next to her. It convinced her that she really must have been mistaken. After all, just because someone had money and blond hair didn’t make him a Malfoy.

“Really? That is fascinating,” he said, sounding truly interested. “I have tried to learn all I can about the final battle there but Hogwarts very much wants to forget what happened that day. I’ve mainly learned what I know by first-hand accounts. It’s a shame that even my own fa-“

“Scorpius,” a cold voice said from somewhere behind Ginny.

The young man stopped mid-sentence and smiled apologetically. There was something familiar about that name though Ginny couldn’t quite place it.

“Well, who do we have here?”

That voice again. Ginny was sure she heard it somewhere. Maybe work? One of Harry’s associates? A parent of one of the children’s friends—

Ginny’s eyes widened in shock; it all fell into place. She swiveled on the barstool slowly, finding herself face to face with one who could be none other than Draco Malfoy. His skin, pale enough to match his white-blond hair, showed few signs of age and his twisted sneer was the exact same as it had been in school. Though he was dressed in muggle clothes, the dark navy slacks and white button up seemed to look perfect on him. His eyes, dark and mocking, took a quick assessment of Ginny’s appearance, from her jeans and sweater to her slightly worn wool jacket to her tangled mess of red curls. After finishing, the grey orbs were alight with mockery.

“I feel I should introduce you, but I didn’t catch your name…” the young man, Scorpius, Draco had called him, said expectantly.

“Ginny Weasley,” Draco said, taking the hand that was not holding the mug and bowing over it rather extravagantly. “Or, I suppose, Potter now.” The cold smirk never left his face.

“Draco Malfoy,” Ginny said, hoping her voice held the same cold contempt that his had. “Or is it Goyle? Did you decide to take your husband’s name? I can’t remember.” She knew it was immature and childish to resort to petty insults like they were teenagers again, but something in his haughty tone made her blood boil. Or maybe it was just the mentioning of her husband.

“Glad to see your wit is still intact,” Draco replied scathingly. “I see you have met my son. I hope you have taught him firsthand how utterly vile you Weasleys are. I’m afraid, however, that he must leave your company now.”

Scorpius looked from his father to Ginny, confused by the sudden violence of the exchange. When his father made his way to the back exit, Scorpius dared to give Ginny a small smile, his eyes asking the questions he could not. At least, not with his father within earshot. Ginny, smiled but kept her eyes on her empty cup. As polite as the young Malfoy was, she had no intention of trying to make him stay.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, spared no backward glance toward the redhead sitting at the bar and made straight for the exit, enjoying the cool wind on his face. She certainly looked like a wreck, which pleased him to an extent. She must not have had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. He tried to smile at that, ignoring the depth of sadness that he had seen in her eyes.

Of course she should have realized that the striking blond was Draco’s son. No two people on the planet could look that similar. She vaguely remembered the birth announcement in the Prophet, rejoicing over the birth of the newest heir to the Malfoy fortune. The Witch’s Mouth seemed to closely resemble a Malfoy family album during those first years, publishing every little accomplishment of the young child from his first steps to his first autograph. While Harry and Ginny had always relentlessly fought the press regarding their children, Draco and his silent wife seemed intent on keeping their son directly in that media spotlight. This continued until the scandal about Mrs. Astoria Malfoy was uncovered. Astoria’s crime was the involvement in an intense muggle torturing project right after He fell, an attempt to reunite the scattered Death Eaters. Ginny was surprised she had eluded capture as long as she had. But then again, now it seemed that everyone over the age of thirty-five had a past that they wanted to hide. With this discovery, the focus shifted from the golden child to his mother. Astoria, unable to handle the stress, took to her bed almost immediately. Four months later, she was dead. The official story attributed this to her history of poor health. Ginny suspected that her departure from this world had been hastened by her husband, but her suspicions went unmentioned in The Prophet as well as the cheap tabloids like The Witch’s Mouth.

Ginny sighed and rolled over, tracing the patterns on the faded blue comforter. It was pointless to contemplate the Malfoy family history. The chances that she was going to run into that family again were about the same as her being mauled by an over-emotional hippogiff. It just was not going to happen. Ginny yawned widely. The bed felt so comfortable; it was hard to focus her thoughts. Swiftly, without bothering to undress or even pull back the covers, Ginny fell asleep, her hand resting on the light blue fleur-de-lis it had been tracing.

Darkness. Screams.

Her friends were falling, dying. She couldn’t help them.

She heard a voice yell her name, but it was impossible to see who.

She tried to respond but when she opened her mouth all that came out was cruel, high-pitched laughter.

Ginny awoke to complete darkness, drenched. Her sweater stuck uncomfortably to her back while beads of sweat condensed on her face. A dream, she told herself firmly. Just a dream. Just another dream. It wasn’t anything new; she had experienced similar nightmares on occasion since her first year. The nightmares grew more frequent after the battle at Hogwarts and had continued to plague her as she matured. She was accustomed to waking up in sweat-soaked pajamas, a silent scream on her lips, but that didn’t lessen the shaky feeling she experienced after waking from one.

Shaking her head slightly, as if the simple action would be able to shake out some of the screams, Ginny got up from the bed and made way for the bathroom at the end of the hall. Thankfully, it was unoccupied and Ginny rushed gratefully inside. Ginny splashed the freezing water onto her face, washing away the sweat. It felt wonderful, as it always did. The trembling in her hands had stopped, at least. Deciding that was good enough for the present, Ginny made her way back to her room. Upon entering, she glanced to her right. The clock on the dresser stated it was six twenty. Ginny assumed it was in the AM hours due to the soft orange light that was beginning to glow behind the pulled curtains. Apparently, she had been more tired than she thought. Sleeping for twelve hours straight was not exactly her normal routine. Deciding that was more than enough rest, Ginny threw on some clean clothes and made her way down to the pub, hoping breakfast was better than the hasty dinner she had eaten prior to getting her room the previous day.

The Yodeling Dwarf was full of the busy morning commuters, all talking rapidly about business deals or with their noses stuck in the Daily Prophet. Ginny took a place at a small table in the corner, hoping she would be able to eat her breakfast in peace.

She was debating on what to order when a smooth voice interrupted her talking to the waitress.

“Might I suggest the vegetable omelet?” Looking up from the breakfast menu, Ginny couldn’t even be annoyed at the disruption and smiled slightly.

“Scorpius Malfoy, correct?” she said, extending her hand to the man who had taken a seat opposite her.

“How kind of you to remember, Mrs. Potter,” the young man replied, taking her hand warmly in his own.

“Please. Call me Ginny.”

Scorpius smiled, showing unnaturally white, even teeth. “Ginny it is then,” he continued. “I was hoping to find you here this morning.”

“Oh? Why is that?’

“I must be allowed to apologize on behalf of my father. He was very rude to you yesterday in a way that was most unlike him.” If Scorpius heard Ginny’s snort, he chose to ignore it. “I’m he is not always the most tolerant person. I do hope though, that he will not prohibit you from speaking with me.”

”Of course not!” Even if he is a complete git, Ginny added mentally. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“First of all,” He started with the calm aura of someone who is used to asking questions, “How do you know my father?”

Ginny was surprised Draco Malfoy had not ranted to his son about the Weasley family, considering how much he had hated them in school. “Well, we are… acquaintances from Hogwarts.” She thought that was a fair response. It would have been a lie to say they were friends, but saying they absolutely detested each other seemed a bit harsh.

“So you were in school during the Dark Lord’s rise to power?”

“Yes,” Ginny responded, slightly uneasy at Scorpius’s use of the same term the Death Eaters had used.

“Were you there during the final battle?” The blue tinted eyes seemed to glow with the excitement his tone did not portray.

Ginny was saved from answering his question, however, by the arrival of her food. The omelet did not smell as delicious as her mother’s cooking, but it was certainly edible. Hoping that Scorpius had been distracted from his interrogation, Ginny looked up and laughed, all uneasiness vanished immediately.

The look on Scorpius’s face was such an utter display of revulsion that Ginny thought her omelet had transformed into the entrails of some strange animal.

“I thought you recommended this?” Ginny said, taking a bite.

“Well yes,” Scorpius said, recovering his composure slightly. “Simply because it is the only thing on the menu that even resembles edible food.”

Ginny swallowed. It wasn’t that bad.

“I must be going,” Scorpius said suddenly. Ginny wondered if it was because he was going to be sick over the sight of her eating the omelet. “But please, can we speak again soon?”

“Of course. Any time you wish.”

“Tomorrow evening then.”

“Agreed.”

With a quick smile and nod, Scorpius Malfoy rushed out the back door leaving a confused but smiling Ginny alone at the table in the corner, halfheartedly eating her omelet.